His observations forced him to frantically search for something, anything to say that might defuse the awkwardness of the situation.

‘I never knew you could sing like that. You are really very good.’

‘Thank you.’

He felt a cooling in his temperature. There seemed little hostility in her voice and it settled his nerve, until he sensed she hadn’t quite finished.

‘I didn’t find my voice until after you FUCKED OFF AND LEFT ME!’

He saw Harry wince and felt the need to loosen his collar. The barman and the three men behind Harry reacted to her raised voice and were all staring intently at him.

He was aware of someone standing next to his left shoulder. He turned and was confronted by a tall, bespectacled, cravat-wearing man. He wore a tweed jacket with suede patches on the elbows and was holding a black violin case. He also appeared to be paying far too much attention to their conversation. Cormac, still smarting from Bernadette’s assault, felt a sudden urge to pick a fight with an English professor.

‘Can I help you, mate?’

‘I am not your mate. And no, I very much doubt you can help me in any way!’

His tone smacked of pure condescension. Cormac thought this a very promising sign: the English professor, with the upper-crust Dublin accent, shared his mood for a fight.

‘Then why don’t you do us all a favour and fuck off from where you came. We’re having a private conversation here.’

The professor leaned into Cormac, so he was inches from his left ear.

‘I am afraid I won’t “fuck off,” as you so eloquently put it, because I have rather a vested interest in your conversation.’

Cormac leapt from his stool, which reduced his height disadvantage by about a foot and a half and placed his forehead in a particularly good position to make contact with his opponent’s sizable nose.

‘Look, what is your fucking problem?’

The tall man removed his spectacles and held his ground.

‘My problem, Sir, is you are clearly upsetting my wife!’

His words hit him harder than a punch. Cormac’s knees forgot their function and he fell back onto the stool.

‘It’s alright, Peter, he’s an old friend of Harry’s. You pack up the rest of the stuff and I’ll be over in a minute.’

Bernadette’s intervention diffused her husband’s anger and hastened his departure. Cormac spoke to her feet.

‘I didn’t know you were married.’

‘Why would you? It has got fuck all to do with you. So if there is nothing else, I think I’ll be off. Give my love to Roisin, Harry.’

She started to move away from him and he instinctively moved his left leg to block her path.

She glared at it.

‘Move your leg or I’ll shout for Peter and I can tell he already doesn’t like you much!’

He knew he couldn’t let her go. He didn’t know how to make her stay. He needed to think quickly.

‘There is something else!’